


And As Exhaustion Sets In

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dream Sex, Frottage, Human Castiel, Less than 1000 words, M/M, Not Beta Read, Wet Dream, dreams are windows into the soul, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the things humans can do, sleep is most likely the strangest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And As Exhaustion Sets In

Castiel had been human for a month. One month of no Grace; no ability to fly from place to place, no “angel radio”, as Dean had so eloquently put it, and, worst of all, no way to hear the prayers of humans. Though Castiel really only cared about one specific human’s prayers. (And, to be honest, calling them prayers was a little far-fetched.)

But of all the bad, being human had its perks. There were things Castiel had to do he did have to when he was an angel. And these things _fascinated_ him. The simplest of tasks entertained him. Watching the swirling colors and shining bubbles when his clothes were on the spin cycle. Feeling every taste bud come alive under the intense flavor of well-seasoned chicken and rice. Experiencing emotions without a barrier, like joy, and even sadness.

There was now, however, a never-ending string of human things Castiel now had to do. Though he knew the human race did such things, and had known since he was a fledgling, they all felt foreign and new to him. Different. Strange.

Of all the things humans can do, sleep is most likely the strangest. At least, to Castiel it was. It’s a time where the body essentially shuts down. The heart slows, the mind goes blank, and consciousness is lost. When one is asleep, they are completely at the mercy of those in the waking world. They could be killed, if one so wanted them to be.

The way Castiel saw it, sleep was a trail run of death, and could bring about death without much trouble.

While sleep is terrifying in and of itself, there are certain elements of it that are breathtaking. You fall asleep completely beat, out of it, gone. Bleary eyed and unable to go on. You wake up like a new person, like someone’s given you a new life to lead. A new born soul to replace a weary, roughened one.

And then, there are dreams.

Dreams are awe inspiring. Like a movie one’s own eyes, dreams were completely unique and indescribable. Some cultures Castiel had observed over the millennia considered dreams windows into the heart and soul. They could show a person exactly what they wanted, no questions asked. Castiel wasn’t sure if that was all true, but it certainly sounded nice. Dreams could be completely out there sometimes, but still sort of make sense. The ex-angel found more reason to appreciate human beings: they had put up with the oddities of sleeping and dreaming since the beginning of Creation.

Part of Castiel did hope those people, who thought dreams were windows and all that, were right. If so, he could finally pinpoint the distracting fluttering in his chest every time he thought about Dean; if the dreams he had were any indication…

The first week he was human, after the Winchesters had found him just outside the Kansas border and took him back to the bunker, Castiel had his first real dream. He had been alone in a field. Peaceful and quiet, tranquil and softly lit, it was somewhere in Heaven. If Castiel tried, he could remember somewhere similar from his extremely early years.

After a few moments, movement had caught his crystal eyes. Dean was right next to him then, like he had been there the whole time. Maybe he had been. Castiel just hadn’t noticed.

They didn’t talk. Just sat for a while, soaking in the warm, light atmosphere. And then, like moving in slow motion, Dean leaned over and cupped Castiel’s jaw, turning it just right before drawing up close and capturing Castiel’s lips with his own. The ex-angel hadn’t been surprised. Quite the opposite, and he closed his eyes, going with the flow, kissing Dean back with equal slow passion.

Soon, the languid kisses turned into a more heated embrace. Tongues flicked and teeth nipped and hands gripped tightly until it was too much teasing and not _enough_. Hips had connected and the two had tumbled into the grass with a soft thud, rolling into each other. Castiel had whimpered into Dean’s mouth as the green eyed man ground his hips down again and again. The friction and the quickening pull of arousal was too much and not enough, all at once. The building up was excruciating and then the _release_ and it was over too fast and not fast enough.

Castiel had woken hazily, the phantom feeling of Dean’s lips still pressed onto his own, his boxers sticky and uncomfortable. But he basked in the afterglow, another foreign sensation, and didn’t question the dream. It had been so real. So good.

Dreams were strange.

But perhaps helpful.

Castiel hoped so, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted to my writing tumblr, alicamillewritesthings.  
> Please leave kudos and comments if you liked, and check out my blog as well!  
> Thank you!


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